There was something strikingly cool and self-reliant in Muriel's manner—something that caused Frank to think that the fellow, young as he was, feared nothing on the face of the earth.
At the same time there was no air of bravado or insolence about that graceful pose and the quiet manner in which he was regarding them. Instead of that, the moonshiner was a living interrogation point, everything about him seeming to speak the question that fell from his lips.
"Are you-uns revernues?"
"Why do you ask us?" Frank quickly counter questioned. "You must know that we will lie if we are, and so you will hear our denial anyway. That can give you little satisfaction."
"Look hyar—she tol' me fair an' squar' that you-uns warn't revernues, but I dunno how she could tell."
"Of whom are you speaking?"
Frank fancied that he knew, but he put the question, and Muriel answered:
"Ther gal that saved yore lives by comin' ter me an' tellin' me ther boys had taken you outer her mammy's house."
"Kate Kenyon?"
"Yes."